


At Night

by xwingpilot



Series: Mirkwood Family One-Shots [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, Sad, Short One Shot, angst with a semi-happy ending, mentioned death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5726362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xwingpilot/pseuds/xwingpilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Can be read as a short one-shot, but is a follow up to "For All Eternity".) Thranduil has a hard time dealing with his wife's death and it becomes even harder when his young son comes to find him when he has a nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Night

The nights, he was finding, were the hardest.

It was in the night when they would talk about their day. When they would relax in each others arms and discus things that happened through the day. Little things such as what their son did that was humorous or larger things relating to the kingdom. It was her advice that kept him rational. Her opinion that made him consider problems with care instead of nonchalant indifference.

But now it was gone. Her opinion, her advice, her soothing voice when she talked.

Anger settled over the Elvenking like a thick blanket. There was no need for anger, not anymore. The beasts that caused his wife's death were all slaughtered, the dragon as well. He should be relieved by the fact his late wife was now avenged. Only he wasn't relieved, he felt a wide array of emotions, none of them relief.

Sitting in his study, he gripped his wine glass tighter. The glass never truly left his slender hands now, instead it was always being filled. She never really approved of how much he enjoyed drinking. In spite, he finished the last mouthful and slammed the now useless glass on the desk.

It was late at night and dark, but he had no problem seeing the glass shatter. With little interest in the glass, he pulled his hand away and stared at it, slightly surprised he didn't cut himself. It was his right hand, his good side. The side that wasn't marred and revolting in his eyes.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Thranduil pushed his chair away from the desk and stood.

She would've held him close, telling him his scars were beautiful in her eyes. That it meant he went though something horrible and survived.

What she would've done mattered little now, she wasn't here and if anything he silently had hoped the dragon fire would've killed him.

Then his son would've been orphaned and he would have defied her dying wish.

She made him promise that he would look after their son. Their little leaf. That he would be there when Legolas needed someone the most - without his mother, the elfling seemed so lost. It pulled at Thranduil's heart every time he looked at his son. However, the way he felt made him keep his distance from his child. It wasn't Legolas' fault and he didn't want his son to ever think it was, but it hurt more then anything to see someone who has her eyes and her smile.

He began to pace the length of his study, his robe trailing behind him.

The moon was the only light he had, the fire having faded earlier that evening, and it reflected upon the entrance door of his study. The door that seemed ajar now, even though he was positive he shut it when he entered.

“Who's there?” Thranduil asked, menacingly stepping forward. No one should be disturbing him, in fact most of his staff outright avoided him. None wanted to be on the King's bad side it seemed.

When no answer came, he strode towards the door. Intending to scold whoever dared to invade his space, he froze when he head a small sniffle.

“ _Ada_?”

Without hesitation, the Elvenking swung the door open to reveal his young son. “Legolas, _ion_ , what are you doing out of bed? It's late.”

He hadn't intended to speak so harshly, but the little prince seemed to not notice as he reached for his father.

“I...I got scared.”

“Where is Faeneth? Did you not go to her?” Faeneth, Legolas' nanny, helped him through the nightmares he had been having since his mothers death.

“I couldn't find her. Then I tried to go to you but you weren't in bed,” he sniffled again, several large tears fell from his blotchy eyes, “I was looking for you, _ada_.”

With a crestfallen expression, Thranduil looked at his son. The elfling seemed lost and afraid, looking for reassurance that things will be alright.

Things wouldn't be alright, however. The Queen was gone, dead. Thranduil's wife, Legolas' mother, she was dead and they only had each other.

“ _Pen tithen_ , come here.” He swept his son up in his arms and moved to his reading chair, far from the broken glass on the desk. “Were you dreaming again?”

The prince snuggled closer to his father, burring himself deeper into the folds of his father's robe, while nodding.

Thranduil mentally braced himself before asking, “What were you dreaming about?”

“Scary things, mean things. I didn't like it.” Legolas' small voice carried through the study. “I called for _nana_ but she didn't come.”

Gripping his son closer to him, the Elvenking felt a sting in his eyes as he fought the urge to cry.

Legolas continued, still crying himself, “I just want _nana_ back.”

Those words broke the dam inside Thranduil. He hadn't cried since that day, the day the love of his life was taken from him. Now it seemed nothing could stop the tears.

So he sat with his son in his lap, both of them mourning the elleth that was taken from them.

“I do too.”

In the morning, when they both awoke, he would think of her and smile; he knew his son would return the gesture and he would be able to see her brightness in Legolas' eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thranduil's wife doesn't have a name to remain neutral.


End file.
